


Superhusbands Family Drabbles

by baconnegg



Series: Superhusbands Family AU [2]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Family, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crack, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Family, Fluff, Multi, Stream of Consciousness, family au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:07:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baconnegg/pseuds/baconnegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt-based drabbles about Steve, Tony, and their vaguely 50's TV family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rough Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! I'm doing these drabbles kind of at random, sort of writing as I go. I hope you'll enjoy them!  
> If anyone has any ideas for future drabbles, don't be shy! I'm open to suggestions and prompts!  
> I'll also be rating each chapter individually. This one is PG for extremely brief reference to war injuries and the world's mildest sexual reference.

Tony was home early for once. Steve usually got home from volunteering before Tony was, as he put it, "released from the claws of the Great and Terrible Pepper Potts," (he never put it this way in earshot of her, obviously, he's still alive). It was the Friday before a long weekend and everyone else got to clock out early, why not the CEO?

Tony relieved Natasha of her post and handed her a few bills. Clint asked if she could stay for dinner, as usual, and the answer was yes, as usual. Tony emptied his pockets onto the counter and squinted at the meticulously planned calendar Steve had put up on the fridge. Thor wouldn't be home from cross-country practice until 4:45 at the earliest, best to start dinner at 4:30, then.

Tony shook off his jacket and tie as he had one of those frequent miniature surreal moments, where he couldn't believe his life now involved paying babysitters and planning around scheduled meals. Steve came into the kitchen just then, so quietly that Tony wouldn't have known except for Clint's crowing of "Dad!" Steve stopped briefly to tousle the eight-year-old's hair, but said nothing.

Steve came up beside Tony, who was still shedding his business skin onto the counter and the floor. "Hey. Bit late today, huh?" Tony twisted around to prop his hip against the counter and pry off his shoes. "See, this is why I tell you to take a car and not bother with the train..."

Tony trailed off when he caught the look in Steve's eyes. He'd seen it before. Anyone who didn't know Steve might mistake it for fatigue and mild frustration after a long day, but there was a withheld hardness to it. It spilled down into the set of his jaw and the stiffness in his shoulders. Tony turned the page of his photographic memory back to his glance at the calendar. Of course, Steve was helping out at the veteran's hospital today.

This had happened before. Not frequently enough that Tony would consider encouraging Steve to quit, but it was familiar. Surprisingly, Steve "The Great Communicator" Rogers (as Tony had dubbed him once or five times) never said much when these rough days happened. He had once explained quietly, that he had quit the army before he ever got hurt and he had no right to complain about some boo-hoo bad feelings. Even if those bad feelings were caused by seeing a college kid short a couple limbs. Tony had almost told him that there wasn't anything wrong with just expressing how you feel, but he thankfully bit back that giant piece of hypocrisy before it slipped out.

Tony continued removing his footwear in silence as Steve went to to emptying his own pockets, not caring about clutter on the countertop. The older man kept one eye on the kids, watching Clint slowly lead Natasha out of the room, chattering away about ninjas and jungles and treasure, all of which were apparently contained in his bedroom. Neat. Once their voices were well muffled by distance, Tony then turned to Steve.

"You look tired. Go take a nap. I'll handle dinner." Tony tapped the rhythm of his words onto Steve's arm.

"What? No," Steve rubbed a bleary eye. "I feel fine. Dinner's my job."

"Well, maybe it's time for a change." Tap tap tap.

"Tony, it's fine. Besides, you can't even make anything." Small smile, small victory.

"Hey, I take great offence to that!" Tony threw his hands up in a melodramatic gesture. "I am an adult, and I am fully capable of _making_ a phone call to a good pizza place. How dare you say otherwise."

"My deepest apologies," Steve chuckled and then looked guilty for laughing. "But really, it's fine. I'm sure you have work to do."

"Hmm, well, picking out toppings _is_ a very time-consuming decision," Tony stroked his beard as if in deep thought. "It'll definitely cut into my TV time. As recompense, you could give me a footrub after dinner. Yes, that's the only fair way of doing it. All in agreement, say aye."

Steve visibly relaxed and went in for a short kiss. "Aye. Just be sure to clip those talons of yours first."

"Are you insinuating something about the state of my feet, sir?" Tony raised both eyebrows, but Steve had already turned around.

"Insinuating? No, I'm merely relating the fact that you laid my ankle open last night with your big toe." Steve said over his shoulder, pointing at his sock-clad feet. "Wake me up when the pizza's here, and don't forget the garlic bread."

"Hey, I must have been doing something right last night if you're only mentioning it now, huh? Huh?" The only response an echo of laughter from down the hall. Tony smiled to himself and shook his head. "Good kid, that Rogers, but he's got no respect."


	2. Through the Mirrored Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Tony and Steve’s niece/godchild, who is ALL GROWN UP now.

“Sir?” A high-pitched voice calls from somewhere in front of Tony. His eyes are closed, cheek resting on one hand. His head is foggy and the fog is made out of numbers and thoughts of bed.

“…Sir?” Why isn’t he in bed, anyways? Bed sounds great right now. Why was he awake? Being awake felt too hard. If he could just drift back to sleep-

“Uncle!” Tony’s eyes snap open at the too-familiar “How-old-are-you” tone. Wonderland is standing in front of his desk in a stylish business suit, proffering a large mug of of coffee, and smirking at him with affection.

“Oh, thanks,” Tony takes the mug and gulps down a few mouthfuls. “Hey, what are you doing up here? Where’s your mother?”

“Her vacation starts today, and it’s also my last day.” Tony blinks. “As I recall, you said you’d take me on a tour on my last day if I did a good job?” Wonderland was on a summer internship with Pepper at Stark Industries.

“Oh yeah, I did say that. Let’s get to it then, it’ll be more interesting than-” Tony looks down at the papers he’s crumpled with his elbow and realizes he has no idea what they’re for. “Whatever this is. Let’s go.”

\- - -

Tony leads her briskly through each floor, talking to the beat of her heels click-clacking behind him. He quickly and efficiently describes the benefits and drawbacks of each department, she keeps up surprisingly well, most people lose Tony at the ten minute mark. After almost two hours of non-stop chatter, Tony feels the rasp of thirst in his throat and suggests they go for an early lunch at the cafe across the street.

“And some day, all that can be yours.” Tony waves a hand and picks up the conversation right where it ended after they order. “If you want.”

“I do want,” Wonderland says, pausing to sip from her iced tea. “But the important question is, do you want me to have it? Would I be good at it?”

“Of course, you’re a smart kid and you’ll be an even smarter adult. When the time comes, you’ll do great. The time won’t come for quite a while though, so you’ve got plenty of time to learn the ropes. But only if you want to.”

“This is going in circles,” the eighteen-year-old sighs. “Come on, why didn’t you let me have this internship until now? If you think I’m so capable and smart, why not save me a couple summers chasing after bratty camp kids?”

“Because those experiences are actually good practice for what you’ll be doing in the future: Trying to reason with selfish people who aren’t as smart as you and have no concept of the greater good. The only difference is they’ll be called ‘investors.’” Wonderland cracks up and Tony grins. He’s not going to tell her he made her wait until she was old enough to convince him she really wanted this as her career. He’s never been interested in the raising up and forcing a child to take over for him like a frilly-collared king. If he was going to do the “heir to the empire” thing, he would have done it with one of his own kids.

“Now, since this is your last day here, there’s some things we need to discuss.” Wonderland pulls a disturbed face and Tony’s confused. “What’s that look for?”

“Last time someone sat me down and said ‘there’s some things we need to discuss’ I found out where babies came from.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to crack up. “No, no birds and the bees today. There’s just three things you need to know if you’re going to run the company some day. Seriously, you need to commit these to memory. Etch them into stone. Tattoo them on your arm-Actually don’t do that, your dad would kill me. Just pay attention.”

Wonderland straightens up and focuses on her uncle. Alert and totally focused, ready to process any information handed to her, just like earlier. “Okay, first of all, people are going to try and take you down. They’ll try to tell you you’re not capable because you’re too young or you don’t have enough degrees or you’re a woman-Yes I know what year this is, but you’re going to get that at some point. Trust me. You wouldn’t believe how sheltered some of these old bags of dirt are.”

A smirk flickers over the young woman’s face, but she nods for Tony to continue. “The second ties in with the first. Now, you’re going to screw up occasionally. That’s just life. But to minimize said screw-ups, you should always listen to this.” Tony points at his mid-section.

“Your old man flab?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny.” The 68-year-old takes a pointed sip of his coffee. “No, your gut. Trust your instincts and you can’t go wrong, at least not in any sort of disastrous way.”

Wonderland nods swiftly. “Sound advice. And the third?”

Tony sets his coffee down and lets out a breath. “This last one’s a bit more serious. Okay, I’m sure you’re aware that Stark Industries used to make weapons. And now we don’t, and we never will again. But you need to understand _why_ we can never go back to that. This isn’t a really good story to tell over lunch but-“

“It’s okay, I know.”

“What?” Tony jerks his head up. “No, you know the news version. The stuff about the kidnapping. But there’s more-“

“No, I mean I know about all of it. Uncle Steve told me the story.”

Tony’s lips stretch into a thin line, arms immediately crossing protectively around the arc reactor. “Why and when did he tell you that?”

“He told me part of it that time we all went camping,- when I was seven, remember? -you took your shirt off to go swimming and I asked about your arc reactor. He told me the rest when I was fourteen. I was staying over at your place and you came home after some new investor had tried to get you to get into some kind of weapons contract. You were really, really angry, and and I was worried, so he explained why.”

They sit in silence for a moment, staring at their food. Wonderland makes a small noise in her throat and speaks again. “I know it’s two decades too late, but I’m sorry about Yinsen. He sounded like a good man.” Tony hums affirmatively. “I can’t promise anything else, but I can promise that as long as I’m in charge of Stark Industries, it won’t be involved in making so much as a water pistol.”

“And that’s why you’re the one for the job,” Tony smiles and pats her wrist quickly. “I’m sorry I worried you. Now, get back to your lunch. We have to head back soon.”

They finish their meals quietly. Tony, a habitual food-inhaler, is done before Wonderland. He takes a moment to study her a bit, while she’s distracted. She has Coulson’s rounded, oval features. His crinkled eyes. A petite, but firm build apparently from his side of the family. Hell, if you ignore the pitch difference, she even sounds just like him. But her hair, pulled back into a ponytail right now, is wavy and pale orange. When she talks or moves, it’s to the point. No adolescent fumbling, she always knows exactly what’s she’s doing. Just like her mother.

Wonderland looks up and catches Tony staring. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No, I was just spaced out thinking about something.”

\- - -

They spend the rest of the afternoon in a meeting Tony was planning to skip, but Pepper had given her kid Tony’s schedule for the day. Sneaky. Wonderland takes notes and Tony takes them appreciatively, even though he’ll probably never look at them. They fill out some super-fun paperwork and call it a day. As they exit the elevator, Tony offers her a ride home.

“Thanks, but Dad’s picking me up. We have to go get a few things for my dorm.”

“Dorm?”

“Yeah,” Wonderland’s face falls a bit. “I start school in almost a week. Did you forget?”

“Pssh, no!” Tony obviously lies. “Harvard, right? You’ll like it there. I mean, it’s not as good as MIT, but-“

“Oh, don’t even start with me, old man.” Wonderland reaches over and pokes Tony hard in the ribs.

“If I’m an old man, what are you?” Tony reaches over with one arm and rests an elbow on top of her head. “A munchkin? Do they even let you on roller coasters? This is what you get for not drinking your milk.”

She squirms out from under Tony’s arm and they playfully shove each other back and forth through the lobby doors and across the sidewalk. Until they hear a familiar voice say “Alice?”

“Daddy!” The young woman runs up to hug Coulson, Tony trailing behind.

“So, Agent, was it you?”

“Was it me what?” Coulson asks, patting his daughter on the shoulder and adjusting his glasses.

“Was it you who gave this little rugrat permission to grow up?” Tony taps Wonderland’s head with the back of his fist, she swats at him. “Wasn’t she in diapers like four, five weeks ago?”

“Ah,” Coulson grins. “No, I think her mother did that.”

“Figures,” Tony rolls his eyes and opens his arms. “C’mere Wonderland, I demand a hug before you run off to Beantown.”

“ _Alice_ will be visiting during her breaks,” Coulson interjects. “She won’t be gone for too long, right dear?”

“Right! And I’ll visit you guys before I leave!” the girl says into Tony’s hug. She steps back in order to reach up and peck him on the cheek. “Thanks for everything this summer, Uncle. See you soon.”

Wonderland darts off in the direction of the car. Coulson moves to follow her, then stops and reaches into his suit jacket, retrieving a pink envelope.

“Alice wanted me to give this to you,” He hands it to Tony and claps him lightly on the shoulder. “Have a good night.”

A few waves, a car engine’s hum, and they’re off. Tony looks down at his hand, feeling the odd weight of the envelope, and pads away to find his car and go home for the day.


	3. I Could Write A Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Superhusbands Family AU fic about the superhusbands themselves.
> 
> Rated M for some language, brief sexual reference, and *super-spoilery thing* (no, it's not violence).

It was August, Tony was ninety-five-years-old.

He was still quite well and capable thanks to Stark Industries' medical tech, though he was technically retired. Well, ninety-eight-percent retired. He still went down to the workshop every day and worked on stuff, just at a much slower pace. And Tony did look his age, but in a very dignified way. The years had been quite kind to Steve as well, more thanks to some lucky genetics and taking care of himself. But if he was feeling his joints click as he climbed into bed, Tony had to be at least a little worse off.

"Do you really have to go to the lab right now?" Steve didn't bother hiding the plaintive tone as his eyes followed Tony's shuffling around the bedroom. Sometimes, not always, Steve showing his worry actually got Tony to look out for himself, it was worth a shot.

"Yes I do. I'm ninety-nine-percent done on this project and if I don't finish it now, I won't sleep. You know that." Tony eased himself down to sit beside Steve on the bed. Tony kissed him and giggled as the edge of Steve's glasses caught on his nose. "Also, my back's bothering me and a night on the cot is just what the doctor ordered."

"Oh, are you alright?" Steve fixed his glasses and leaned forward to nuzzle Tony's neck a bit. He felt guilty hearing that, considering they had made love yesterday for the first time in a while. Age may have slowed down their drives, but it hadn't done a thing to their skills. "I don't want you overdoing it."

"I'm fine. I'm a big boy, I know how to look after myself." Tony ran a scarred, wrinkled hand through Steve's hair. "Hmm, look at that."

"Look at what, exactly?"

"This little patch of hair," Tony lightly scratched a small point near Steve's neck. "It's still blonde. Just can't let go of your youth, huh, Rogers?" Steve laughed into Tony's shoulder. That was one area where Tony had the upper hand. His hair had stubbornly stayed threaded with black, while Steve's had gone completely white rather suddenly.

"Don't push yourself, okay?" Steve relented and kissed Tony again. There was no stopping a Stark on a mission. Tony kissed back, said goodnight, and tugged the blanket up around Steve before leaving for the lab.

\- - -

Early the next morning, Steve woke up to JARVIS telling him the weather and no Tony in his bed. Mother hen that he tended to be, he headed for the elevator to go check on Tony. Reaching the workshop proper, he called out and received no answer. No surprise, Tony was a late sleeper by nature.

Steve spotted him on the cot from a distance and headed over rather slowly, as his knees were killing him. He was wondering blandly to himself if it was going to rain, when he got closer and noticed Tony looked pale. Very, very pale.

Pain forgotten, he rushed over. The arc reactor light was out. Tony was as still as a metal beam. Steve's thoughts raced. CPR. Ambulance. Medical care. But as soon as he touched Tony's arm, he knew it was too late. Tony was as cold as ice.

Steve was once an army man, death was nothing new to him. But this was...there wasn't even a word for it. There was only "No," repeating in his mind over and over and over. As he stood there, stock still, hand on his husband's (late husband's? Oh god, no) arm, a tiny part of his mind starting functioning enough to let him to form words.

"JARVIS!" He shouted at the ceiling, like it would make a difference. "JARVIS, why didn't the alarm go off? _Why didn't you tell me-"_

"It was Master Stark's wishes, sir."

Steve sputtered. "What?"

"Master Stark said that he knew the end of his life was quite near." If Steve had been in a more coherent state of mind, he might have been able to detect the note of impossible sadness in the AI's tone. "He said he had no desire to linger in a hospital or anything of that sort. He instructed me to alert you only once four hours had passed. It has only been three hours and forty-eight minutes."

Steve was angry. So angry. At everything and everyone. But there was nothing that could said that would make anything better. Steve lowered his head and slowly knelt beside Tony's cot. He lifted his hand to the dark arc reactor, and felt a stupendous ache deep inside his heart.

"He went peacefully in his sleep, sir." The AI said after a pause, causing Steve to jerk his head up a bit. "The arc reactor ceased functioning after he died, not the other way around. He never so much as woke up."

Steve nodded dumbly. Faintly taking notice that aside from the colouring, Tony looked as though he was peacefully asleep.

Another pause. "Shall I message the young masters and mistress and tell them to come at once?"

"Yes," Steve managed, his neurons coming back online though he didn't really want them to. "Tell them, tell them to leave the grandkids behind if they're there. Don't bring them."

JARVIS hummed affirmatively. Steve stayed where he was, feeling more blank and empty inside than he had ever felt in his entire life.

\- - -

A week later. After Tony had been cremated and set adrift on the wind, as per his will. After no funeral had been held, as per his will and also the desire of the family not to turn his death into more of a public spectacle than it already was. After Steve had taken to wearing Tony's rings on a chain around his neck, as Tony had so often done with them when he was alive. A week after all that, Steve found himself in church, wearing his nicest black suit and taking in a Mass.

He'd been going a little more frequently recently, now that he had somewhat retired from some of his volunteer work (not all of it, just the ones that wore him out too much now). Church had always a place where he could relax and think for a bit. Now it was a comfort, like a shock blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He still felt like he was holding back. Even though he'd spent the week half in tears, half wiping up everyone else's tears. None of the kids were taking it easily. No one was.

Coincidentally, just as he thought of his offspring, he spotted Thor down in the front row. Using his spot on the balcony, he zeroed in on Clint and Bruce, sitting together and almost out of sight towards the back. A glance to his far right revealed Natasha. Steve felt a tiny spark of happiness for the first time in a week. This odd little occurrence reminded him of Easters gone by, when he'd wrangle the family into nice clothes, into a car, and off to Mass at Dad/Sir/Steve-why-is-it-so-EARLY o'clock.

Normally one to hang back a bit and be one of the last ones out, Steve made a beeline for the exit once the service was over. Standing near the main door, he managed to grab all four kids as they came out. They stood there, all in black and shuffling, almost embarrassed at having been "caught." No one said anything. There was nothing to say.

Steve took them all out for lunch. Nothing much was said then, either. But the food was good and the atmosphere was relaxing.

\- - -

A bit more time passed. The hardest, ugliest part of the mourning period was over, for the most part. Steve adjusted to being alone, though he didn't do very much aside from sit or lay down or exist. The kids, sensing this a bit, all came to visit in turns.

First, Thor came over sans Jane or their brood. He said that "it would really be no trouble at all!" if Steve came to live with them, even temporarily. And that if he did, they'd be able to look out for him and keep him company. After all, "Families should be together! Right? With family there's no need to be all by one's lonesome!"

Steve fought hard to supress laughter. Here was Thor, who was old enough to have all of his own children grown and out of the house (Well, mostly, Nate and Eli tended to drift in and out, and Cassie was just starting to move into her first apartment). And he was still loud and word-clumsy and blunt. Still trying to do the Good Eldest Sibling thing and help out his dad. It would have been downright heart-melting if Thor hadn't presented it in such a blundering way.

He politely turned down Thor's offer, promising to keep it in mind for the future.

Clint dropped by, strangely without Bruce. He had taken after Tony's indirectness towards anything involving unhappy emotions. He made it sound like he was worried about Steve's health. Comments about joints and falls and sudden things that might possibly come up, all buffered with "no offense, Dad," and "Don't worry, we're not shipping you off to the glue factory just yet." Clint even asked JARVIS to make sure Stark Tower was programmed for optimum comfort and ease.

Steve gently refused, and they played fetch with Dummy and You for a while. As Clint was reluctantly heading home, he suddenly exclaimed "Oh wait! I forgot all about this!" He reached into the cooler bag he'd been using as a lunch box for way too long, and from a cluster of ice packs, retrieved a small box of Neapolitan ice cream and handed it to Steve.

Ice cream. Tony's preferred emotional pacifier for everyone and anyone.

After Clint left, Steve sat eating the ice cream and cracking up a bit hysterically at long intervals. Tony was gone, but in the strangest ways, definitely not forgotten.

Then there was Natasha. She came over, sat down on the couch, and soon as she had her tea said "There's no room at our place, but Maria would be fine with us moving in here, if you would like." Steve thanked her, but said no, he was doing fine on his own. Natasha thought for a moment and shrugged, "As long as you're sure."

Bruce came over not long after Clint did. In Tony's will, aside from every piece of tech, research, and other science-y things that weren't dedicated to Stark Industries, he had also specifically given his newest invention to Bruce. Tony had phrased it like it was a dog that needed a new owner.

It was that last project he was finishing up that last night, and it was finished, of course. Bruce came into the workshop for the first time after that day, curious and quietly reverent.

The happiness from seeing Bruce dimmed as Steve stood awkwardly in a place that had been so essentially Tony. Bruce didn't notice Steve's frown, he raced through the files and reports and data. Steve couldn't tell what the invention was, except that it was powered by an arc reactor. Bruce finally stopped for a moment, rubbed a dazed hand over his face, and said "I don't believe this. This is _amazing._ "

Other people certainly seemed to think so too, though Steve never understood any of the technobabble smattering the news afterwards. Whatever Tony's last project was, it certainly left its mark on the scientific and engineering worlds. Steve was just happy to see Bruce that happy.

Then along came Wonderland, after holding back a bit to let the more immediate family members have their time with Steve. She looked quite dour, not her usual self at all. Even though she'd been officially in charge of Stark Industries for a while now, she seemed lost without her favourite uncle to guide her. She chatted with Steve for a while, keeping things upbeat. After a few false starts, she finally outright asked if Steve still had Tony's arc reactor.

Steve went and retrieved it from its place in one of the safes, where he'd stored it before the funeral home people had come to take Tony's body away. Wonderland placed it in a glass case she'd gotten from her mother. "I know this is really weird," she said. "But when I have to hand over Stark Industries, whoever I give the company to has to...they have to understand-"

"It's okay, I know." Steve said softly, brushing a stray hair out of her eyes. She smiled for a brief moment, before starting to tremble. Steve wrapped his still-strong arms around her and held her there for a long time.

It wasn't a good year for the poor thing. Phil Coulson, who had always subtly acknowledged his appreciation for the introduction of Pepper (and subsequently, Alice), Steve, and the kids into his life, died a few months later in a silent, unfortunate tribute to Tony.

Rhodey had passed on a few years earlier. Pepper, though no longer "Stark's babysitter," was still Pepper, and that was a good thing for everyone.

\- - -

On the six-month anniversary of both Tony's death and the beginning of Steve's period of feeling unendingly numb and disconnected, JARVIS got his attention and instructed him to get an envelope from a safe in Tony's workshop. Puzzled, Steve did so. The envelope held a small piece of paper with some kind of computer code and instructions to grab a closed cardboard box from the same safe. Apprehensive, Steve took the rather heavy box, then went ahead and typed the code into one of the computers at Tony's old workstation.

A recent video of Tony started to play on the holographic screen in front of him. Oh Jesus Christ, why.

Video-Tony fidgeted and coughed a bit, looking nervous and unprotected standing in the empty middle of his workshop. "Hey, Steve. If you're watching this, then I'm dead-Wow, that's a weird thing to say. Anyways, I know it's been a while since I died, but I thought I should give you some time to uh, mourn and whatnot. I wanted to make sure you'd be receptive to what I have to say. It's important, trust me."

Steve's hands clenched tight on his knees, but he unconsciously raised an eyebrow, intrigued in spite of himself.

"Fifty-eight years together," Tony murmurs, and oh god, the ache in Steve's chest was back and even stronger. "Married for fifty-three of those years. That's-that's crazy. When I met you, if you'd asked me, I would have told you I didn't care if I lived for another four years. Sure, turning Stark Industries around was nice and all, but someone else could do it, really. I wasn't special, just lucky. It was a fulfilling thing, but still just a-Okay, enough pseudo-philosophy. I know you're losing patience already." Tony's compensating grin softened Steve a bit, but still A-plus for perception.

"Okay, what I'm trying to say is that you losing your mind and making the horrible decision to date me gave me a real purpose." Tony's hands were moving as fast as his mouth, Steve's hands stayed clenched tight. "It was like 'Wow, here's this intelligent, kind, wonderful person who worries about me and likes talking to me and _loves_ me. Maybe I should try being less of a complete jackass.'

"And we got married and we had kids, of all things. And grandkids! I'm a grandfather! How did that even happen? And every day I got to wake up beside you and we ate breakfast and then I'd go to work and come home and you'd be there. I got to _come home to someone who loved me._ Fucking _wow._

"And you'd get mad at me and then come drag me out of my lab to let me know you still loved me. We'd go out, we'd stay in, it didn't even matter. And the sex! My, my, didn't we make the perfect team?" Tony actually did the eyebrow-waggle thing, and Steve's hands released just a bit.

"Okay, okay, I'm babbling, I know. I just wanted to let you know that I've had an amazing life, all because of you." A smile, a genuine Tony smile. Oh, god. "So thank you for everything, Steve. I couldn't have conceived of anything better if I'd tried, and that's saying something. I have no regrets now. And listen, just because my life's over doesn't mean yours is.

"I know what you're like. I remember what you were like when we first got together. You were lost without Bucky and Peggy. You were existing in that big, empty apartment, and nothing else." Steve tried to protest silently, but even in his own thoughts he knew Tony was right. "I'm not stupid, I know you're doing the exact same thing right now. You've got a lot of years left. Go have fun, visit with the kids and grandkids, travel. I'm not picky. Just please," Tony's voice cracked for the first time. "Please, don't waste it. Not on my account."

Steve's tears dropped quite freely, but Tony held back. "Wow, my dad made this look a lot easier. Okay, just, have a good time. Enjoy your life. You can open the box now. I love you, Steve." Tony gave a little wave, and the video ended.

Shaking a little, Steve opened the box. A thick, black portfolio lay inside. He opened it to the first page and-no.

No. No. Tony, why.

It was a photo album of them. From the time they got together until just before- _Fuck._

Steve couldn't take it anymore. He slammed the book shut and threw it on the desk in front of him. He slid off the chair and crumpled on the floor. For six months, he'd been holding back. Trying to stay strong. Remembering all the "he's in a better place/life goes on/death is a part of life" mantras. But he couldn't anymore, he just couldn't.

He sobbed and hiccuped and yelled himself hoarse on the floor of Tony's empty workshop. All the anger finally coming to surface. He was alone in Stark Tower and alone for the rest of his life. He'd loved Tony so much, and now he was gone and leaving Steve sentimental fucking mementos from beyond the grave, and Steve was still here. Why was that fair? _Why?_

He awoke excessively early the next morning. You was poking at him and making concerned beeps. Every part of him ached like a toothache, but internally, he felt better. He picked up the photo album gingerly, held it close to his chest, and headed upstairs to sleep properly.

\- - -

Steve did take Tony's advice. Not right away, not until he could look through the photo album without losing it. Once he moved to acceptance, he was ready.

He still lived at Stark Tower technically, but like a busy college student he only really came home to sleep. Steve never stopped volunteering, he wasn't sure if he could. He visited each of the kids at least every couple of days, Pepper once a week, and the grandkids and Wonderland as often as he could.

Tony had mentioned travelling in the video and oddly enough, that was the one thing in their life they really hadn't done that much of. There were always kids to raise and business to take care of. Now solely in possession of Tony's billions, Steve thought "why not?" He took each of the children, grandchildren, Pepper, and Wonderland, individually, on nice trips to different parts of the world. The only exception was that he took Billy and his husband Teddy together, because separating those two even for ten days would be just cruel. And watching them interact was entertainment in and of itself.

Steve got to attend weddings, hold new babies, and watch everyone grow and change, offering the benefit of his experience whenever he could. He still missed Tony, felt somewhat empty without him at his side. But it really wasn't such a bad life at all. It was quite good.

\- - -

Years pass, Steve tries to enjoy every moment of them. He does quite well. Thirteen and a half years later, he's sleeping in what was once his and Tony's bed and he feels a gentle pressure on his arm.

Steve struggles to open his eyes, trying to focus in the near-darkness. A person appears to be sitting on the edge of the bed in the middle of the night. As he scrubs at his eyes he hears a voice. "Wake up, Steve."

"...Tony?" It is Tony. Sitting on the bed in a black tank top and jeans, looking just as he did in life-No, a bit different. Younger, much younger, healthy and unblemished and smiling, though the latter wasn't different at all.

"Come on, Steve," Tony says gently as he extends a hand. "Time to go."

"Oh, I was wondering when I'd see you again," Steve mumbles as he allows himself to be pulled to his feet, feeling quite a bit lighter. Tony stands with him. They're so close together and Tony is warm, so warm. Steve ducks his head to kiss him, and Tony kisses back deeply, lovingly. Everything feels just the same, except the familiar metallic press of the arc reactor is gone.

"I love you so much," Steve says when they pull apart. "I've missed you."

"I love you too," Tony grins broadly. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, I did." Steve glances towards the bedroom door, feeling the slight pull of parental concern. "Will the kids be alright, though? I'm not sure if I've taken care of everything..."

"They'll be just fine, trust me," Tony runs a warm hand up and down Steve's back before patting it encouragingly. "Let's go, everybody's waiting."

Steve takes a deep breath and kisses Tony's forehead. "Okay." He takes Tony's hand and allows himself to be led, for once.

* * *

_Tony had only slept with a handful of people (well, a Tony Stark handful, anyways) since he'd gotten the arc reactor. Partly because of being so busy with Stark Industries, and partly just because of how things worked out with Pepper not long afterwards. But each time, there was what he called the "take me or leave me" moment, when he peeled off his last shirt to see how disturbed or disgusted they were, possibly enough to get out of bed. Results had varied, but aside from the variable of Pepper, they had all skewed towards the very negative, in one way or another._

_This time, his partner just sat there wide-eyed and half undressed, before reaching out and pressing one finger lightly to the centre of the reactor._

_"Oh," Steve said in an awed voice, pressing his entire palm against it. "I thought it would be hot to the touch."_

_"Nah," Tony said, stifling his surprise by flipping to science mode momentarily. "If something gives off heat, that means it's inefficient. I don't do inefficient. Also, I'd have burn marks on all my shirts by now."_

_Steve laughed, dragging his hand up and across the web of scars. He suddenly looked concerned and pulled his hand away, looking Tony in the eye. "I'm sorry, does it hurt at all? I should have asked first."_

_Most of the physical pain in Tony's life had been his own fault, arc reactor included. To have someone be so honestly, genuinely concerned about his pain was a bit...new. "No, no, not anymore. It's all healed now and my body's adjusted. Touching is fine."_

_Steve was bent down, kissing and biting at the scars in an instant. Oh, that was distracting. The sensation on the scar tissue was very different, very nice. Tony had to take a moment before speaking again. "Uh, I can put the shirt back on if you find it weird, or if you don't want the light. It's nothing personal. You don't have to pretend-"_

_"Pretend?" Steve pulls back with a confused, offended expression. "Why would I pretend? It's the whole reason we're even here right now. Would I really be put off by that? And it's not weird, it's amazing. I like it."_

_Tony pushes Steve over until Steve's on his back beneath him. Discussions about Steve's perfection and boy scout-tendencies could wait till after sex. "Okay."_

** _FIN_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take responsibility for any feelings you may have felt while reading this. The next ones will be much happier.


	4. Steve's Day Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Sorry it's been awhile! Started a new job, but I think I've worked otu a schedule now and updates will be more regular. 
> 
> This chapter is fluff, to make up for the last one. Prompted by a lovely commenter. Pure, cotton candy, fluff. Tony interacting with children. Enjoy it as the snack that it is before the next one.
> 
> Oh, and the next chapter? I am very excited about it. It will be different, for sure. Some old faces, some new. Now I'm just pointlessly talking myself up. Enjoy this one and look forward to the next one!

"Stay still, Tony! I've almost got it."

"I can do this myself," Tony huffed and fidgeted as Steve toyed with the straps on the backpack-esque baby carrier. "I didn't get my engineering degree out of a cereal box, y'know."

"I just want to make sure it's on properly so it doesn't bother your back." Steve adjusted the straps a bit more and then took it off, setting it beside the diaper bag on the counter. "There we go, you're all set."

"You really don't mind me being alone with them all day?" Tony reached for his mug and took a sip of his coffee. Six-month-old Clint chattered from his high chair and Steve walked over to scoop him up.

"No, of course not. You're home with them in the evening all the time, you know what you're doing."

"Yeah, but you're there. Look, I'm not trying to get you out of your day off, you definitely deserve it. It's just, I haven't been alone with kids for an entire day in my whole life. That leaves for a rather wide margin of error."

Steve shut him up with a kiss. "Relax. They’re not going to spontaneously combust. It's really not that hard." Steve lowered Clint into Tony's arms and grabbed a piece of paper off the counter. "Here's a little to-do list. I have my phone if you need me. Enjoy yourself and try not to blow anything up."

"And what kind of shenanigans are you and the Gruesome Twosome getting up to while I'm tending the offspring?" Tony had gotten today off, only by allowing Pepper to have the same. She'd decided to invite Steve in on the fun.

"I'll tell them you called them that," Steve leaned down a bit to snuggle and say goodbye to Clint. "Pepper and I going to a baseball game, then we're all going out to an early dinner when Phil gets home, and then out in the city for a bit. I'll be home by Thor's bedtime."

"Sounds like Daddy's going to have a good time." Tony grinned and Steve grinned back.

"Oh yes, Daddy will. Have a good day, see you later." A peck on the cheek and he was out the door.

\- - -

It was a warm September day and Thor was at school till later in the afternoon. Tony decided to take Clint out for some fresh air and errands.

Steve had sent Tony to the art supplies store where he used to work. Tony found the errand odd, because Steve usually enjoys doing that. He stops finding it odd when he sees the One Day Only, Everything Half-Off sale sign. Steve Rogers: Happily married to a billionaire, still can never resist a bargain.

"'Field' sketchbook?" Tony asked, holding up the item to inspect it. "As opposed to what? An indoor sketchbook? Are there different books for different locations? Do they sell ocean sketchbooks? What do you think, kiddo?"

Clint babbled and reached out of the carrier to grasp at the sketchbook.

"Yeah, you're right. We should get him two to save him a shopping trip. Who are we to judge the whims of an artist?" Clint made a gurgling noise. "Right."

"Hey, kneaded erasers! I love these things!" Tony said a few aisles away. Other customers, who had been whispering about seeing a celebrity out shopping like a normal person, started to shoot Tony weird looks and shuffle away as he seemed to start a conversation with his backwards backpack. Clint was rather small for his age and still seemed to disappear into the pouch if you were looking from the wrong angle.

"I swiped one of your Dad's one time, way before you came along. Made it into a snail. He still has it on his desk." Clint babbled. "I know, right? Let that be a lesson to you: The way to your Dad's heart is to steal his stuff and make it into bugs. Wait, are snails bugs?"

Clint made a high-pitched noise. "Oh yeah, right." Tony took out his phone and tapped the question into Google. "Apparently, they're molluscs. The more you know."

At the front of the store, there was artwork from local artists for sale, including some screenprinted stuffed animals. Clint reached out and batted at a hawk. Tony, not being inclined to deny his kids anything ever, bought it for him.

\- - -

A few hours (measured by formula ounces and soothed shrieks) later, Tony and Clint were under a tree at the park. Tony tucked into some fast food while watching Clint crawl around on the grass. Well, Clint hadn't quite mastered crawling yet. He was doing more of an arm-drag with occasional rolling over. Whenever he got too far away, Tony reached out a foot and dragged him back, laughing at the aggravated noises he made.

Tony's phone rang, it was Steve. "Hey, baseball game over already?"

"No, I'm just taking a fifth inning stretch," Tony picked up on the easy smile in Steve's voice. "How's your day been?"

"Great," Tony said as he scooped Clint up against his chest, not risking getting distracted and letting the kid wander too far. "We went shopping, Clint threw up some stuff. He chewed on some stuff. He threw up some of the stuff he chewed on."

"Sounds like a busy day."

"Oh yeah, just go-go-go over here, non-stop," Tony laughed along with Steve. "We also went to the car wash, he seemed to really enjoy that. Not even being sarcastic, he had the time of his life."

"Wow, most kids his age hate it." A pause. "Wait, didn't you have all the cars washed yesterday?"

"Yeah. But Clint really needed a change and a certain necessary item was missing from the bag."

"The pad!" Steve face-palming registered as a soft _whap_ over the phone. "I left it on the table in his room. Jeez, I'm sorry. Did the stain come out of the upholstery?"

"I didn't even risk it with the upholstery. Just parked in front of a mall and pulled a thirty second job on the hood. Clint was a little displeased, but it worked, so no big deal."

"You really are the 'master diaper changer,' I might make you a badge," Steve chuckled and then stopped suddenly. "Wait, you were parked out front of a mall?"

"Yeah, talk about a lucky break. There's never good parking spots near those-Why are you groaning?"

"Tony, why didn't you just go inside and use the changing table in the bathroom?"

"Because we live in a horrible, sexist world and men's rooms don't have those. And I don't think I'd be welcome in the women's."

"That's why they have _family_ bathrooms, specifically for situations like this."

Tony felt pretty embarrassed at that. He was in his forties and couldn't handle changing a kid properly. It was probably dangerous, doing it like that, even quickly. Clint could have rolled off, and car hoods aren't the most sanitary places-

Tony was jerked out of his thoughts by Steve cracking up. "Oh my god, Tony, sometimes you're just so, what's the word? Bourgeois?" Steve stopped to laugh some more. "You probably haven't ever seen the inside of a mall in your life."

"I have too! I make frequent use of their food courts!" Tony tried to fake indignation, but really he was just glad he hadn't screwed up and made Steve mad. Clint wriggled in his lap, reaching up for the shiny thing in Tony's hand.

"You're damned adorable sometimes," Steve said, a change in background noise indicating he was on the move. "Alright, I gotta go. I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you too." Tony pressed the "end" button and tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans, out of sight and out of mind for a curious baby. He went back to his french fries. Clint babbled again and reached more insistently.

"What, you want this?" Tony held the fry just out of the chattering infant's reach. "I don't think so. Those two little nubs," he tapped on Clint's two new bottom teeth with his free hand. "Ain't gonna cut it. Get yourself some molars and bicuspids and then we'll talk."

Clint lightly bit Tony's pointer finger. Ever since they'd brought him home, Clint had been a finger-chewer. Never his own fingers, but everyone else's. It was pretty cute, but Steve was trying to break him of the habit now that he was getting his teeth.

With that in mind, Tony set the fry back in its box, picked up Clint's hand, and held Clint's fingers gently between his teeth. "Yeah, now what are you gonna do?" He said with difficulty as he tried not to bite down even a little.

Clint went quite still and regarded his father with a quizzical baby expression. After a moment, he released Tony's finger and wriggled out of his light hold and back onto the grass. Tony leaned back and resumed his lunch, content in the fact he had just mind-screwed a six-month-old.

\- - -

"And then, and then we had naptime, except I didn't actually nap. I never actually nap. I can't get sleepy enough. So I just count the carpet threads. I got to forty-two today, and I wasn't even really trying 'cause I was kinda bored. Ms. Lee says I'm really good at my counting. And then-Far, are you listening?"

"Yeah, of course I'm listening," Tony glanced in the rearview mirror at a bouncing Thor. "What did you do after that?"

"Ms. Lee said that 'cause it was a nice day out, we could have outside time. We haven't had outside time in a while 'cause it's been raining. I like rain. I don't know why the other kids don't like it. I guess if it was cold it wouldn't be fun, but it's warm right now. And I made a castle in the sandbox. It was really good. I hope it's there tomorrow, but if it's not that's okay. I'll make another one. Jenna said she thought it was cool. Then you came to pick me up and now we're here."

"Sounds like a good day. Wait, was Jenna the one that said that she 'like-likes' you, yesterday?"

"No, that's Alecia. But I dunno, we just play hide and seek. She's really good at it 'cause she's really small. Not as small as Clint though, but almost." Thor turned his attention to his baby brother in the carseat beside him and started entertaining them both with Clint's new hawk plushie.

"I wouldn't worry too much about stuff like that just yet, Thor. You've got your whole life to figure out 'like-liking' people, no reason to rush into it."

"Okay." Thor said in the little kid drawl that makes small words sound like big ones.

\- - -

After a few rounds of hide and seek on the main living floor (Thor won four to nothing because Tony was carrying a baby that squawked whenever his big brother got near), it was dinnertime. Determined to do a good job while Steve was gone, Tony decided to actually cook for a change. He started making his best dinner dish besides take-out: Breakfast.

"Can I help, Far?" Thor asked, peering up at Tony who was extracting some tightly-packed waffles from a box.

"Sorry buddy, it's all hot stuff. Too dangerous," Tony half-snickered at hearing himself call anything too dangerous, but noticed Thor's disappointment. "Do you want to feed Clint for me? He's starting to whine."

Clint was indeed whining, both from hunger and from being strapped into his high chair on the other side of the room. The elaborate Tony-built playpen was too big to drag into the kitchen, and Tony didn't like leaving him out of sight. Might give him a complex or something.

Tony made up Clint's food, dragged a tall stool in front of the high chair, and lifted Thor onto it. Reminding him to be very gentle and careful, he handed Thor the spoon and vegetable mush. Thor nodded very seriously and went about the task in the same way. He was awfully capable, for being only nearly-six. Once again, Tony wondered what Thor's life had been like before they adopted him and once again, he dropped the thought knowing it wasn't going to bring any answers.

Tony kept his eyes on the frying food and his ears on the two kids. Some people (strangers, and Rhodey) made fun of him for having one-sided conversations with Clint, but Thor went even further. He asked questions of and answered for Clint. It was entertaining enough that Tony cut up his own food like he did Thor's before he realized it.

After a dinner of waffles, bacon, and omelettes, Thor headed out to the backyard under the watchful eye of JARVIS's one thousand and one security protocols. Tony bathed Clint (which was comparable to wrangling an octopus, if octopi dwelt in kitchen sinks), gave him his bedtime bottle (which involved a lot of testing to see if Clint could hold the bottle by himself, and a lot of formula dribbled on Tony's shirt), and put him to bed (which involved a bit of lingering by the side of the crib and unconscious humming on Tony's part).

Upon exiting the room, JARVIS informed him that Thor was trying to come in. "Well then let him in. What, do you need a defrag or something?"

"Not quite, sir," the AI replied dryly, pulling up a video on the nearest window. Tony walked up to it and saw what appeared to be the Creature from the Black Lagoon standing outside his back door.

"THERE'S A BIG MUD PUDDLE OUT HERE, FAR!" The creature hollered, voice muffled by the low volume JARVIS had thankfully opted for.

"I can see that. Stay put, okay?" Tony grabbed three towels from a bathroom and made for the elevator. Stark Tower was nearly entirely self-cleaning, but it wasn't fast enough for Steve to not see tracked-in mud on the carpet when he came home.

After some clothing was immediately thrown in the wash and serious hair-washing was taken care of, Tony decided he could use a shower too, being covered in various child-related fluids from the day.

"You can handle your own stuff, right buddy?" Tony asked, stepping into the spray and passing Thor a washcloth and a bar of soap. This was usually Steve's part of the evening routine, Tony was a bit unfamiliar with it.

"Yep!" Things went comfortably quiet while the two went about lathering. "Hey Far?"

"Yeah?"

"How come Clint has to go to bed so early?"

"Because babies need more sleep than bigger kids do."

"Why?"

Tony winced. He knew where this was going. "Because babies grow a lot and that's really tiring."

"Why?"

"Because growing is hard work."

"Why?"

"Well, that's more of a Dad question. Biology isn't really my area of specialty."

"I dunno what that last part means, but okay."

After the shower was shut off, Tony realized he hadn't gone to get Thor's pajamas beforehand, or his for that matter. Tony pulled his best dramatic face. "Uh oh, do you know what this means?"  
Thor stood in his underwear looking horrified, like Tony might tell him he could never wear clothes again, or something. "No, what?"

"It means we have to have a race to see who can get to their bedrooms, get dressed, and get to the living room first. Ready? GO!" Thor was out the door and down the hall before Tony could finish the syllable. Tony grinned broadly to himself and trotted off to his and Steve's bedroom. Moments later, he made his way to the living room to find an out of breath Thor trying to instruct JARVIS to turn his show on the big TV.

Sitting on the couch in his rarely-worn pajamas, watching cartoons with his arm around his son, Tony found it hard to believe that bad things happened in the world at all. In that moment, he was sure that if everyone just did this once in a while, the world would be just perfect.

The cartoon ended and Tony brought himself back to reality. He supervised Thor's teeth-brushing, tucked him into his rocketship bed (Tony-made, of course), and settled in for a bedtime story. They were just at the part where Max was sailing back home from where the wild things were, when there was a gentle knock at the door.

"DAD!" Thor nearly did a somersault trying to climb out of the tangled sheets. Steve came over to give him a hug and settle him down. "You said you'd be home by my bedtime and you are!"

"Of course. Did you have fun today?" Thor made a 'mhmm' sound as he buried himself in Steve's chest. Steve kept one hand on Thor as he leaned over to kiss Tony. "How was it?"

"Pretty good. I didn't set anything on fire, kill anyone, or stick my finger in a light socket. I'd call that an accomplishment." Steve shook his head as Tony smirked. "And I think I wore someone out just a bit too much."

Steve looked down to find a limp, lightly snoring five-year-old in his arms. When Thor fell asleep, he fell like a rock. "Didn't even get a proper goodnight in, he must be tired." Steve tucked the little narcoleptic back into his blankets as Tony extracted himself from the bed.

"Nice dark circles under your eyes, by the way," Tony said once they were in their own bedroom and Steve was shedding his clothes. "I'm guessing you enjoyed your day off."

"Yeah, we had a great time," Steve paused removing his pants to rub his eye. "Baseball game was great, dinner was great, and then we went dancing and oh god, my legs are going to be killing me tomorrow."

Tony smirked. "Pepper's still got the moves, huh?"

"Definitely. And Phil too, surprisingly. I must have looked like a flapping bird next to them. I'm a terrible dancer."

"Nonsense," Tony said, peeling off Steve's t-shirt for him. "I taught you how to dance, you're plenty good at it."

"Slow dancing, not fast." Steve yawned loudly. "Oh god, I'm so tired. I had one too many at that club. What about you? Did you enjoy your day with the kids?"

"Yeah, it was fun. Spending time with them. Pretending to be you for a day."

"You weren't pretending," Steve shook his head a bit slowly, fatigued. "You're their parent too, you spend lots of time with them. Why the self-deprecation?"

"No, it's just," Tony paused to pull the sheets back on the bed, Steve gratefully crawled onto it. "I'm at work most days, in the lab or wherever else. I'm glad one of us can be home with them. And you're good at it so yeah, gold star and all that. You should take more days off, you're still young."

"I will," Steve wrapped his arms around Tony and curled up beside him. "But this one will do me for a while. Oh and Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Nice pajama pants. Very bold. Good night."

"Bought them off the Norwegian curling team as part of a bet. They're ten kinds of comfortable. Good night, Steve."

**_ FIN  _ **


	5. Not Your Fault, But Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Loki reappears! And one of the grandkids gets speaking lines! O frabjous day!
> 
> Trigger warning for depictions of mental illness. Bit of swearing, references to negative pasts, and smoking (if you're trying to quit, I wouldn't read this).
> 
> For timeframe reference, Thor is 45, Steve is nearly-68, and Tony is 81. Nate is 16.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs in, panting and harried* Sorry guys! I know I've been on radio silence for a while! Blame it on work and the fact that this chapter fought me like...something that fights stuff. Anyways! I have notes and things all ready for the next chapter! So it'll come out quite a bit sooner than this one. And it's fluffy too! Lots of fluffy happiness for everyone.
> 
> On with the show!

"Happy Father's Day to you, Happy Father's Day to you, Happy Father's Day, dear dads! HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO YOU!"

"You're mixing up your holidays there," Tony says as he starts tearing the paper off the present in his lap. "And don't quit your day job, but A for effort."

"Thank you for the gifts, and ignore him." Steve smiles up at Thor, unwrapping his own gift. Thor just stands back and blindingly grins.

"What's this? Coffee? Oh, it's the good stuff," Tony face lights up with caffeine-fueled glee. "And a mug, 'Number One Far.' Where do you find these things?"

"Same place I found the last one. Sorry it broke."

"Don't be, it was Dummy's fault. I need to sell that thing for scrap metal, one of these days. What did you get, Steve?"

"Pencil crayons with my name on them," Steve shakes his head. "And a new sweatshirt! Are you saying I need to retire the old one?"

"You can practically see through it." Thor scrapes one of the kitchen chairs across the floor and takes a seat.

"Yeah, I guess. Thank you very much, you didn't have to get us anything."

"But you did, so thanks for the stuff." Tony strokes the bag of fancy coffee lovingly, as if to say _Soon my darling, very soon._ "Not that I'm complaining, but how come you didn't wait until dinner to give us these?"

"Ah," Thor looks down at the table and starts picking at his cuticles. "I'm afraid I won't be able to make it tonight. I'm very sorry, really. It's just that something came up with work and I-"

"Thor," Steve says in his firm, "I'm in charge here" tone. "Don't lie to us."

Thor freezes, as if paused by a remote.

"Nate's run away again, hasn't he?"

"Yes," Thor sighs so loudly it reverberates through his entire body. "Alone this time, not with Eli. Eli's actually been sticking with rehab, but Nate-I'm so sorry. This is supposed to be your day, you shouldn't be burdened with my problems."

"Uh, he's our grandkid. I think he qualifies as 'our problem,'" Tony looks at Thor skeptically. "Did you notify the police?"

Thor nods. "That's why I have to stay home and by the phone. And it wouldn't be right for me to be out gallivanting, when he's who knows where..."

"Of course not, we completely understand," Steve reaches out to touch Thor's shoulder. "When Nate comes back- And he will, he always does -I think we need to look at getting him into some counselling or something. There must be a reason for this behaviour."

"Yeah, he needs his head shrunk or a kick in the ass," Tony interjects, ignoring the Look he gets from Steve. "Whichever's more effective. This has been going on since he was what, nine? It needs to stop."

"Actually, I think I might have an idea," Thor says gravely, eyes glazing over with stress.

"You can tell us, we're not going anywhere," Steve sits up a bit more and positions himself to listen attentively. Tony does the same.

"Well, it's just," Thor stops to rub at his temple. "We did try to get him help, when it first started. But all it did was trigger him to run away again and again, after each appointment. So we gave up, we thought he might grow out of it. He was- is relatively well-behaved the rest of the time, after all."

This was true. Nate was a respectful, kind-hearted, and remarkably intelligent young man. So intelligent that Tony was taking him under his wing. Aside from the random runaway attempts, he was never purposefully rebellious.

"And we were so caught up dealing with Eli, we didn't pay as close attention as we should have. And then raising the other four kids on top of that," Thor waves a dismissive hand. "But I've noticed some things, over the years."

"What kinds of things?" Tony prompts, eager to get to the point.

"Well, there's the fact he's never found until he wants to be found. And then the one time I nearly caught him as he was running out of the house. He looked so frightened. It was like he couldn't even see me, like he-I can't even explain it. It just gave me a bad feeling, you know?"

Steve nods and gestures for him to continue. "I got talking to Eli after the last time, when they ran away together. He told me while they were gone, they were staying in an empty warehouse or something, that Nate looked like he was 'in a trance.' Still sleeping and eating when he needed it, but completely closed off. Except for the entire time, he was tensed up and sweating like he was scared."

A quiet "oh no" slips out of Tony's mouth before he can catch it.

"Eli said, he said that he would catch Nate muttering to himself. He couldn't pick out what Nate was saying, only that he would pause like someone was responding." Thor swallows hard, Adam's apple bouncing sharply. His voice speeds up as he begins again. "So I decided to ask the other kids. They'd noticed similar things, before he'd go and run away. Cassie said she saw him 'lunge at the wall like a monster was there.' I asked them, why didn't they tell me? They said, 'Dad, I thought you knew'-!"

At that, Thor presses his face into his hands. Steve jumps up, old bones forgotten, to wrap his arms around Thor and press a hand to his hair. Tony watches silently, for once at a complete loss for words.

"Oh Thor," Steve says softly. "Why didn't you tell us sooner? We could have helped."

"I didn't," Thor mumbles, shifting his hands but keeping his eyes covered. "I didn't want to consider, to acknowledge what was really going on. I thought maybe if I just talked to him some more, maybe if I could come up with some kind of solution on my own, he could get better and everything would be fine."

"You don't have to do this alone. That's what we're here for. When Nate comes home, we'll all figure something out together. Okay?"

"...Thank you." Thor scrubs at his face as Steve sits down on the chair Tony pushes over for him. "God, I'm such a complete failure. A father is supposed to look out for his children. Take care of them. I've let them all live in fear just so I could do things my own way."

"Don't say that. Dwelling on it won't help anything."

Thor makes a bitter, snorting kind of sound. "I wonder if I'm cursed."

"Cursed?" Tony says with a tone of "I still love you but please tell me you're not one of _those_ people."

"It does seems that way," Thor shrugs limply. "Everyone I'm blood-related to seems to suffer such misfortune. Nate, my birth parents, Loki. I know Loki doesn't really 'count,' in that respect but, oh I don't know."

"Everyone has problems," Tony says after a moment. "It isn't dependent on sharing DNA with you or not. Look at Eli, he's not blood-related to you and he's had a hell of a ladder to climb."

"Mountain," Steve corrects. "But he's right, there's no use in trying to point fingers. Let's just deal with the situation and make sure everyone is okay."

Thor slumps back into his chair. "I'm sorry, Far, Dad. I'm so sorry for failing to take care of your grandchildren." His voice goes much quieter. "Why does it have to be him, of all people?"

Steve looks at Thor for a moment, eyes full of sadness. "I know you have to head home, but let me make you some lunch first. I'll just be a second."

Thor mumbles a thank-you as Steve starts digging around in the fridge. As Steve rattles some jars around, Tony reaches out and taps Thor on the arm. "Hey, do you remember what I told you, after that last day in court with Loki?"

A small smile lights up Thor's face for a moment. "Yes, I do."

Tony smiles back. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't forget."

\- - -

Loki recognizes Nate instantly. How could he not? Thor diligently sends him the kids' school pictures every year.

But Nate doesn't guess who Loki is at all. Loki's dedicated his life to staying as far away from cameras as possible. And while he's started seeing Thor quite frequently when he's in the city, he hasn't actually met any of the kids (aside from Billy and Tommy, but they were babies at the time). Simply because he's spent most of their lifespans in rather difficult times.

His adoptive father still being alive. His murder. The aftermath of his death. Not the best times to go make pleasant visits. But enough of that whinging.

The little runaway showed up in his barn, numb and non-verbal. He was receptive enough for Loki to direct him upstairs into a small apartment above the stalls, muttering to himself all the way. Yikes. Loki calls Thor to tell him and send along some GPS coordinates.

Thor arrives a few hours later, looking relieved and confused at the same time. Loki meets him as he parks a little bit away from the house.

"Is this _your_ farm?" Thor asks, slightly distracted by the large, tree-enclosed property. Loki nods. "Why didn't you ever tell me you had a place upstate?"

"I have a lot of property. Perhaps you would like a bulleted list?"

Thor pauses, then smiles broadly. "It's good to see you, brother!" He strides over and wraps Loki in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry it's not under better circumstances."

Loki stiffens and winces. "Personal bubble, Thor. Remember the bubble."

"Oh! Sorry!" Thor releases Loki, who gasps a bit. "I'm just a little ah, wound up, you understand."

"I do," Loki smooths his button-down shirt. "He's fine, in case you're wondering. He was eating some bread when I left him."

A grave look palls itself over Thor's face. "That's good. Let's go then, no reason to wait."

Loki walks a few steps ahead of Thor as they go across the yard, through the barn, and up the stairs to the little rooms there. Loki stays out in the hallway when Thor goes in.

Nate surprisingly recognizes his father, and is a little startled to see him. In a quiet, gentle voice, Thor explains who the farm owner actually is, and why he came. Loki positions himself so he can see into the room, but they can't see him.

The young man sits on the edge of the bed, bread abandoned. His eyes are halfway glazed over, partially unseeing. He speaks calmly and quietly, but his muscles are tensed up. Fear, and something else.

"I only have to be gone a few days, Dad," Nate mumbles, but his voice is firm and resolute. "I promise. I'll come right home. It'll be fine."

"You don't have to be gone at all," Thor says in a strained and restrained voice. "You can come home now. You're safe there. Everyone's worried about you."

"Yes I do!" Nate's voice pitches a bit higher but remains calm. He brings his legs up on the bed, curls around them. "I have to stay here. It won't be safe for anyone if I don't. Everyone will get hurt, and it'll be all my fault. How can you not understand?"

Thor looks heartbroken and defeated. "Nathaniel..."

Nate looks up with distant eyes. "Dad, I have to stay. I'm sorry. I'll come home soon, okay? You have to leave now."

Thor says nothing for a long moment. "Alright. Take care, and please come home soon. I love you." He stands up and brushes a large hand lightly over his son's hair, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Nate never moves.

Thor is silent until they're out of the barn. He eventually gives Loki the short version of what's going on with Nate. Loki just nods, having mostly figured it out from a few minutes of observance and already knowing of the child's running away issue. An unfortunate, but typical case.

"He won't cause any trouble," Thor says as they get closer to the driveway. "I know I'm asking a lot but if you could just let him stay there, bring him some food, and please, let me know if he leaves. It would mean the world to me, and I'll find a way to repay you." Thor pauses and mutters to himself. "I can't believe this, I really can't."

"Stranger things have happened." Loki reaches into his pocket and removes a cigarette case and a lighter. They're herbal, because he enjoys being able to honestly say he can quit anytime he wants to, he just doesn't want to.

Thor leans on the fence that runs parallel to the driveway, Loki does the same. Normally this would be the part where they make casual chit-chat until one of them gets bored/hungry/etc. and ends it. But today, Thor just stares down and jabs at the dirt with his shoe.

Loki takes a long sideways glance at him. This man who isn't his brother but insists on being it anyways. A man who's never pissed off and left Loki alone, despite Loki asking him to do so many, many times in the past. Right now, he looks like a lost goddamn golden retriever puppy. Loki's not interested in putting up with that. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and whistles high and loud.

A grey, spotted stallion races across the field and is at the fence in a mere moment. Thor's jaw actually drops open, it's pretty funny. "He's HUGE!"

"Isn't he handsome?" Loki crushes the cigarette under his heel and reaches high over his head to scratch the animal behind the ears. "His name is Sleipnir. I took him in when he was just a few days old. You can pet him if you like, he has excellent manners."

"Sleipnir," Thor tries the word out as he runs a tentative hand across the horse's neck. "What a magnificent animal! He's so-Wait, what are these?" Thor points at some scars on Sleipnir's torso. Thick, ragged slashes beside each leg, obviously old and healed.

"Oh, yes. He already had those when I got him. He was a rescue, I don't know from where."

"What a shame," Thor frowns, rubbing Sleipnir's shoulder. "I can't imagine anyone doing something like that."

"No," Loki says with a slow smile. "No, I suppose you can't."

Something cold presses against the back of Thor's leg, causing him to shriek and jump a foot in the air. Loki laughs so hard he has to clutch the fence for support.

"Oh, hello! Nice dog, come here." A little embarrassed, Thor kneels to offer the large animal his hand. Loki smiles, pleased that Thor is distracted for the moment. "Another fine animal! What breed is he?"

"Fenris is a wolf." Thor stops mid-ear scratching. "I got him when he was a few days old too, he's mostly harmless."

Thor nods, mostly comforted. "Quite the menagerie you have here, brother." He stands and brushes the dirt off his knees. Fenris nudges him, hoping for more petting. "I'd love to stay and visit with all of you, but I'm afraid I must go. I've worried Jane and the kids enough for one day."

"Yes, that's fine." Loki subtly signals Fenris to move in between them, in case Thor forgets the bubble again. "Hela should be giving me a call soon."

"Who's Hela?"

Loki freezes, then reaches for another cigarette. He hadn't meant to mention her, Thor's bluntness must be contagious. "She's, well, she's my daughter."

Thor's face contorts into several emotions at once. Excitement, confusion, disappointment. "Loki! Why didn't you tell me you had children of your own?!"

"Child," Loki corrects. "I didn't say anything because I was only her father on paper for most of her life. Hela lived with her mother in Norway and I only got to visit her for one weekend out of the year."

"Ah, always such a shame when break-ups go so badly."

"We weren't together in the first place," Loki says around the cigarette held between his teeth. "Oh, don't give me that look. It was a youthful indiscretion, I'm much more careful now. Anyways, she showed up here out of the blue when she was fifteen. A falling out with her mother, she said. Fickle girl. Now she's finishing up her last year of boarding school. The end."

"I see," Thor smiles to himself. "What a wonderful surprise! Another niece! I suppose I won't be able to meet her for a while, do you have any pictures?"

Loki retrieves his phone from his pocket and taps a few buttons before passing it to Thor. "That's her school picture."

"She looks like a very nice young lady," Thor grins, but then looks puzzled. "But why is she wearing her Halloween costume for a school photo?"

"Oh, right. Hela's covered in birthmarks on one half of her body, so when she turned eighteen she got a big tattoo to cover it. She's much happier now."

"...And you were okay with her turning herself into a half-skeleton?"

"Whose money do you think she used to pay for it? Those things aren't cheap, you know. Especially good ones."

"Oh, okay." Thor grins again. "That's what I like about you Loki, you're so unconventional!"

"Okay."

"Before I go, I must thank you again," Thor's enormous shoulders sink noticeably. Sleipnir and Fenris nudge at his shoulder and hip. "For looking after Nate. It really will only be a few days, he's always honest about that part. I'm so very sorry to trouble you, it won't happen again."

"No trouble." Loki holds his cigarette with two fingers and leans back to rest his elbow on the fence. "Who knows, the boy and I might be able to have an understanding. This could even be beneficial."

Thor pauses for a thought. "You know, Loki, it might be time that you were properly introduced to everyone-"

"-Don't. We've had this conversation before-"

"-I know, but that was a long time ago! Things are different now, we're different now."

Loki takes a long drag off his cigarette and says nothing. Thor puts his hands in his pockets and tries to get into the same state of mind he uses when the kids get moody and shut him out.

"Loki, we're not children anymore. We've had very different lives, sure, but that's in the past now. I don't want to be so distant from you, especially at a time like this. You're my brother, I want you to be a bigger part of my life."

Silence stretches out between them for long minutes. Thor sighs and turns to leave. Today was not a good day.

"Maybe," Loki says suddenly. "When the children are out of school, Hela and I could stay with your family for a weekend. On a few conditions."

Thor turns back around and smiles broadly. "Of course! And what might those be?"

"First, it has to be on my terms. International business waits for no man."

"Of course."

"Second, I'm not interested in running into your parents. So let's avoid that, shall we?"

"I understand," Thor looks at the ground a bit sheepishly. "They don't hold anything against you, you know."

"Yes, okay. Third, it'll have to be after you sort Nate out, I think that goes without saying."

Thor bites his lip. "Yes, of course. He's my top priority right now. The family and I will figure something out, somehow..."

"It's going to be hardest on the boy," Loki takes another long drag and purposely avoids Thor's cow-eyes. "But it'll be ten times harder if you don't take care of it. If you can't figure it out on your own, call me or something. I do have experience in this area."

Thor brightens, just a bit. "No one can say you aren't a generous brother."

"Don't start with the mush," Loki rolls his eyes. "You ought to go home now, you've got a woman and a houseful of children to look after. Christ, how many kids _do_ you have now? Ten?"

"Just six! We didn't have any more after Cassie!" Thor laughs, goes in to hug before remembering, then backs up and claps Loki on the shoulder instead. "Hopefully I'll see you soon. And thank you so much, again."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Loki smirks as Thor gives Sleipnir and Fenris farewell head-pets. Neither seem willing to let their new friend leave.

Thor gets in his car and pulls away. Just as Loki turns to feed Sleipnir some treats, he hears brakes squeal. Turning, he sees Thor sticking his big head out the car window.

"I ALMOST FORGOT," Thor shouts up the driveway. "HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, LOKI!"

"Same to you?" Thor waves and drives off at last, leaving Loki shaking his head but smiling.

_** FIN ** _

**Post-Credits Scene (since this probably won't get a chapter of its own):**  
Nate comes home after a few days, just like he said. Thor and Jane (with help from Tony and Steve) get him the help he needs. It's not a quick-fix problem. Nate struggles to control it for the rest of his life. But with some work, he's able to stabilize himself enough to be around his family as much as he wants, have relationships, and land a nice job at Stark Industries R &D department.

Loki starts visiting Thor, and brings along Hela, Fenris, and even occasionally Sleipnir (!). There are moments of awkwardness, but the kids generally think he's pretty cool. He even grows rather fond of Jane, having respect for her no-nonsense attitude.

Thor's just happy when his family is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I've covered this before, but here's a little age chart for Thor's kids (with this chapter as a timeframe):
> 
> Nate: 16 (born when Thor and Jane were 28), Eli: 16 (adopted at age 1), Billy and Tommy: 15 (adopted as newborns), Jonas: 13 (adopted as a newborn), and Cassie: 12 (adopted as a newborn).
> 
> Kate (Clint and Bruce's kid) is the same age as Nate and Eli and was adopted at age 5, in case you were wondering.
> 
> Insert usual I'm butchering/streamlining the adoption process disclaimer here. (Though actually, I might have a reason for doing that, which will be revealed in a future chapter, dun dun DUNNNNN...)
> 
> Until next time, look after ALL the babies!


	6. Don't Let Them Go to Waste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek inside Clint and Bruce’s relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I’m so sorry that I’ve let this beloved AU of mine lapse for so long. I have several more stories to tell (including a sequel to this one that discusses Bruce’s teenage years and involves Betty! I’m a little excited about it), and I’m hoping to get back on the horse and tell them. I am still in college and very, very busy, so I can’t make any promises about time. Please stick with me, and I’ll try my best not to disappoint you.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: The middle section of this features self-harm, depression, and suicidal thoughts. I tried to keep the gore of the self-harm to a minimum, but if you think you might be triggered, you’ll probably be better off skipping this one.
> 
> Title is from Dan Mangan’s excellent ‘Robots.’

**First**

Bruce is nine and three-quarters years old and playing a childish game of “Have you ever...?” in Clint’s room when he says it.

“Really?” Clint looks cross-eyed at his best friend. “Not anybody? Not even on the cheek?”

Bruce shakes his head, surprised that this is a surprise. “Nope. What about you?”

“I’ve kissed about five people now.” Clint looks towards the ceiling and fiddles with a stray lock of his hair. “Or maybe six? No, five. Yeah.”

“That many?”

“That’s not a lot. Nora, the girl in the front row? She told me on the bus that she’s kissed ten people. She swore on her mom, even.”

“Wow.” Bruce looks at the carpet and bites his lips. Was he supposed to be kissing people? He’d thought that was for high schoolers and grown-ups. He must be really behind.

“What’s the matter?” Clint scoots a little closer to him. “Everybody gets to kiss somebody eventually. It’ll happen when it happens, no big deal.”

“But what if when I finally do kiss someone, they hate it ‘cause they’ve already kissed like fifteen people and I have no idea what I’m doing?” Bruce’s voice is getting a little whinier than he’d like, but this information is rather distressing. “What if they tell everyone and I get made fun of? Like when Nikolai said he didn’t know how to tie his shoes yet. All the guys are still calling him names!”

“Bruce, relax!” Clint grabs his shoulder and lowers his voice, sounding as serious as a third grader can. “How about we kiss just for practice? Then when you finally like someone and they like you back, you can kiss them with confidence! Girls love confident guys!”

Bruce’s eyes widen and his eyebrows disappear under his bangs. “But...we don’t like each other. Not like that.”

“I said it’s for practice.” Clint crosses his arms and furrows his brow. “When Tasha beats people up in karate, it’s not ‘cause they actually hate each other. They’re just getting ready for when they have to defend themselves. It’s the same thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally! Would I lie to you?”

Clint could be a troublemaker, but he hasn’t hurt Bruce yet and doesn’t have a reason to start. Bruce lets him check the hall and check with JARVIS to make sure no one’s coming their way. Meanwhile, he shifts around on the soft carpet in the middle of the room, feeling exposed and unable to get comfortable.

Clint sits down in front of Bruce and wiggles until their knees are touching. If he was nervous, he certainly wasn’t showing it. “Okay, are you ready?”

“I-I guess so.”

“Don’t be nervous! Just pretend you’re Superman and I’m Lois Lane.”

Bruce cracks a wry smile. “I’ll remember you said that.”

“Shut up! Okay, you should probably take your glasses off. I don’t wanna bend ‘em.”

Bruce obliges, setting them carefully to one side. Now he’s a little more nervous, how intense is this kissing thing going to be?

“Close your eyes. Now tilt your head a bit.”

“To which side?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Clint swallows loudly. “Okay, hold still.”

Bruce feels Clint get closer and closer until their lips finally touch. It’s wet and strange and he feels like he can’t breathe. But it only lasts for a couple seconds. Clint pulls away with a tiny smacking sound and Bruce opens his eyes.

“Bruce, you gotta be into it.” Clint’s tinged a little pink, but his eyes are intense like at his archery matches. “Kiss back and stuff. And lick your lips before you do it, you’re kinda chapped and it feels weird.”

They try again, and Bruce tries to get it right, though he doesn’t attempt whatever “and stuff” means. He leans into it and it lasts a little longer, the smacking is louder when they pull back.

“There you go!” Clint grins and gives him a thumbs-up. “You got it! How do you feel now that you’re officially a practiced kisser?”

Bruce hiccups a laugh when Clint holds out an imaginary microphone. “Uh, warm. Especially in my face. And really tingly. Is that normal?”

“Yup, I’ve always felt that way. Except when I kissed Bradley Cooper last year, but he tried to lick my face. Nasty.” Clint stands up and hauls Bruce up with him. “Tell ya what, let’s do it once more for good luck. Then let’s go ask Dad if we can go to the store. I believe pixy sticks are needed to celebrate this occasion.”

Clint’s still grinning wide when Bruce decides to take the initiative, so he nearly kisses his teeth. But for Bruce’s third smooch ever, it’s pretty darn good. He has to hold back from gleefully giggling the rest of the day, lest Steve or Tony suspect something. At bedtime, he tells Clint he feels kinda proud of himself. Clint smiles in the dark and tells him to wait till he does it with someone he really likes, ‘cause that’s just _awesome_.

 **Last**

Bruce is seventeen-years-old and alone in bedroom on a Saturday night when he does it.

“Bruce?” Steve enters after he’s knocked and been given the go-ahead. “Are you okay?”

“M’fine. Just got a headache that won’t quit.” Bruce lies in a hushed voice, pillow half-covering his face.

“I brought you a sandwich. Try to eat it when you’re feeling a little better.” Steve sets the plate on Bruce’s side table with a clink. He takes a long look at the huddled form on the bed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine. I just need to sleep.” Shit, that came out unnecessarily bitchy. He hadn’t meant to-

“Well, as long as you’re sure.” Steve’s voice is already by the door. “Holler if you need anything.”

The door clicks shut, a few tears squeeze out of Bruce’s eyes and Goddammit, this isn’t worth crying over. But he can’t do anything except lay there and let the tears melt into the sheets. He’s such a worthless fucking excuse for a human being. He can’t even be nice to one of the people who’s taken him in and spoiled him for years. Fuck.

He’s in the eleventh grade and absolutely miserable. Bruce had hoped maybe this year, just maybe, school would be better. He wants to be looking forward to university. He wants to feel invested in his schoolwork when the teachers are finally making it interesting. He wants to look forward to the rest of his life, but he can’t. Not with the taunts, the words written on his desk, the atmosphere of unending hatred and isolation.

Not after the third incident when Clint had finally asked him what was wrong.

Bruce shivers in fear and disgust at himself. Nothing like that had happened after he’d met Clint, he thought he’d grown out of it. But there was the jumping thing, that drunken night at the party, and that almost-mugging in Central Park. A small twist of fate could have made him a murderer any one of those nights, if he’d just hit a little harder or in the right spot.

Fuck, he hated himself. More than he could possibly hate anyone else.

Maybe he’ll grow out of all this, even the anger thing. Maybe he should get some counselling and see that the world’s bigger than high school. But why do the positive answers have to be the right ones? Who says he can’t be a pathetic, unloveable human being in a world that has no place for him?

Bruce glances at his science fair trophies on the shelf as he makes himself to sit up on the side of the bed. Fuck the genius thing. The world’s overflowing with geniuses, he’s nothing special.

He takes a reluctant bite out of the sandwich and notices it’s a bit stale. The clock on the window touchscreen reads eight fourteen p.m. When had Steve left? It only feels like ten minutes ago, did he fall asleep?

Sleep is about the only thing he can do, nowadays. His homework still sits unfinished and nearly overdue in his backpack. Food tastes bland. Nothing seems interesting. He’s surprised to have cried at all, he hasn’t done that in weeks, even when he wants to. If he could only feel something, even just for a moment. Maybe-

_Maybe._

It’s a dark thought. Bruce knows it. But no darker than any other thought he’s had today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. At least he’d actually be doing something for a change. Thinking about it even motivates him to clean his plate.

The blades from his razor are removed with relative ease. He scalds them under hot water because he’s not there yet, and even if he was, infection isn’t a good exit strategy. Not with SI medical tech so close at hand. He wraps one end in tissue so he can hold it properly. Climbing carefully into his bed, Bruce uses his free hand to slide a pillow into place. When all’s said and done, he’s leaning shirtless against the headboard, right ankle crossed over his left.

He tugs the right side of his pajama pants down. Low enough to expose plenty of hip, but high enough to cover his junk. He’s not ready to go that far either, just needs the scars good and hidden.

The first cut is two fingers’ breadth away from his hipbone and fast. Like a kitten had scratched him. That’s not enough. The second time Bruce goes slower, a little deeper. He amps it up a little more and a little more as he goes, relishing the pain. All the while, the words _You deserve this_ repeat in his ear in a raspy voice that isn’t his own.

On the last one, Bruce decides to go for gold. It bleeds well enough to spill down and make a big stain his boxers. He’s watching it spread when he hears “What the _hell_ are you doing?”

Bruce holds back a curse when he jerks his head up and sees Clint. He’s supposed to be at archery practice. He’s supposed to fucking knock. “Nothing!” is all he manages before throwing himself off the bed and running for the bathroom.

He turns to throw the door closed just as Clint catches up with him and holds it open an inch. “Bruce, no. Bruce! Let me in! We need to talk!”

“No, we don’t!” Clint would never understand. Clint’s always had an ever-growing circle of friends, a girl or guy to snuggle up to at lunch and fool around with at night, general success at being a person. All the things Bruce has never had.

“Bruce, just let me come in for a second! Please!”

“No! Leave me alone! I just want to be left alone!”

“Too fuckin’ bad!” Clint gives one hard shove and Bruce can’t hold the door back anymore. Damn his upper body strength right to hell.

With nowhere else to go, Bruce retreats backwards into the corner between the vanity and the wall. He tosses the blade on the counter and glares at it like it betrayed him. In a way, it did.

Clint keeps staring at Bruce’s still mostly-exposed and bloody hip as he closes the door behind him. Not locks it, just closes it. He inches towards Bruce, and stops a couple feet away, giving him room to run. “Bruce... _why_?”

Bruce bites his tongue hard as he pulls his pants up, elastic band irritating the wounds. “I don’t know.”

“I think you might have an idea.”

Bruce finally looks up to meet Clint’s horrified gaze. What the hell. Clint’s going to think he’s crazy either way, so might as well get this over with. Clint can go back to his parties and Bruce can pick up his one-way ticket to a padded room.

Bruce lets all of it spill out. All the ugly things that have been in his head for days, weeks, months out in the open. At the end of the spiel, he feels twice as numb as he did before, making the cutting was a waste of damn time.

“Bruce, I didn’t know.” Clint says after a few false starts, looking like he wants to crumple to the floor. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Well, the whole point was that you weren’t supposed to know.”

“Why not?”

“Clint.” Bruce covers his eyes with his hands, he’s exhausted. “Can you just leave, please? Spare me your sympathy, I don’t need it.”

Clint doesn’t say anything for a moment. Bruce looks up just as Clint rushes in and wraps his arms tight around him. Bruce isn’t sure what to say to that.

“Bruce, I’m so sorry.” Clint’s voice sounds wrecked, even muffled by Bruce’s shoulder. “God fucking damn it.” He pauses to take a couple deep breaths. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We can fix this.”

“How?” Bruce laughs into Clint’s shoulder. He has to, he doesn’t know what else to do. “How do you plan to fix me? Are you going to hold my hand in group therapy and convince your friends to keep the snickering to a minimum when I walk by?”

“I will punch every last one in their fucking faces if I ever catch them doing that.” It’s so angry, so possessive, not the usual Clint at all. “I’ll do anything I need to do to make sure you never get to this point ever again. Anything at all. I won’t let this happen again.”

“Why?” Bruce can’t help but ask. _Because my brain is so valuable to the world? Because everyone will feel guilty if I kill myself? Because your live-in friend is a freak and you can’t deal with that?_

“Because I love you.”

It’s a rare occasion when Bruce’s mind goes totally blank. “Don’t.”

“You’re my best friend, you’ve always been my best friend.” Clint’s voice relaxes a little, but his grip gets tighter. “I’m sorry I’ve sucked at showing it recently. I’ll be less of an ignorant dick from now on.”

“Clint, it’s not that simple.” Bruce answers an unasked question. “You can’t just- My problems aren’t going to just _go away_.”

“I know, I know. But I’m here as long you need me.”

Silence descends on them as they both process all that’s gone on. Bruce soon goes ever so slightly hysterical and starts hiccuping into Clint’s shoulder. Clint just holds him tight and leads him to bed.

One quick, awkward text conversation asking the parentals to leave them alone for the evening and that they’ll talk it all out tomorrow and not to worry, and the pair are laying in Bruce’s bed holding each other.

Every time Bruce lets out an uncontrollable whimper, Clint tells him it’s going to be alright. He tells him and tells him and tells him until Bruce believes it long enough to fall asleep.

 **Always**

Bruce is twenty-six-years-old and relaxing naked in a mountain cabin when he believes it.

He’d gotten up to use the bathroom and now he’s having a little trouble finding his way back in the dark. Is this the bedroom? Nope, closet. Is this the bedroom? Nope, bigger closet. Is this the bedroom? Nope, patio, _brrr_.

He finally finds it, and is welcomed by Clint’s trademark grumpy pout that makes him look like an Internet cat meme. “What, is the honeymoon over already?”

“Thought you’d gone somewhere without me.” Clint rubs at one eye, voice thick with sleep. “Had me worried for a second.”

“No need to worry.” Bruce pokes at the fire for a moment before climbing back into bed. “Besides, where would I go at this time of night?”

“Is it night?” Clint reaches up behind the bed and tugs the curtain aside. “Huh, guess so. How long were we asleep for?”

“No idea. I haven’t found a single clock in this place. I thought the Swiss were famous for them.”

“Maybe there’ll be more clocks in Germany.” This is only the first of many stops on the four-week European winter honeymoon Tony had paid and arranged for them. Bruce is still a bit speechless with gratitude.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asks in an amused voice as Clint slides under the blankets, wrapping his arms around the backs of Bruce’s knees. They’ve gone at it twice today already. Any further activity would have to be manual, and after a glass of water and another hour or two.

Clint seems undeterred by weak flesh. He pushes at Bruce until he rolls on his back. He kisses up one thigh, nips each hip, and mouths his way up Bruce’s stomach and chest.

Bruce makes a rather unmanly groaning noise when Clint’s tongue lathes over his nipple. He feels like melting into the mattress from this on its own. Clint knows him so well, knows just where and how to touch without Bruce having to say a word. Sliding his left hand into the prickly hair at the back of Clint’s neck, Bruce tips his head forward to press a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Clint finishes pecking at Bruce’s neck and hauls himself up to kiss him firm and deep, tongue coming out to play. When he pulls back, a thoughtful look comes over him. “Hey, you’re good at math, right?”

“If I’m not, my entire career is a sham.”

“How many years have we known each other?”

"Nineteen. Seventy-three percent of our lives.”

Clint jerks back, almost slipping off Bruce in surprise. “Jeez, really? That’s a lot.”

“It’s only two decades, don’t have a mid-life crisis just yet.”

“I’m not!” Clint laughs and rests his head on Bruce’s chest, stubble catching on chest hair. “That’s a long time for two people to be together, huh?”

Worry finds Bruce and self-doubt creeps into his mind. “I guess.”

Clint lifts himself back up and starts kissing Bruce’s forehead like he can’t stop touching him. “Best years of my life so far. You up for more?”

Bruce laughs into Clint’s neck, a shy chuckle he hasn’t heard from himself since their first anniversary, at least. “I am if you are.”

Clint leans back a little, gazing down warmly and brushing his fingers wherever his eyes land.“I ever tell you how gorgeous you are?”

Bruce instinctively breaks eye contact. “About every other day or so. Not that I believe you.”

“That’s a shame. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”

“One of how many?”

Clint reaches for Bruce’s hand and moves it so he can kiss the wedding ring on his finger. “Hard to say. I guess I’ll just have to tell you all of them and then you can count them up.”

“You have that much faith in my mathematical abilities?”

“You haven’t failed me yet. Let’s start with reason number one, you’re an excellent kisser.” Clint leans in for another kiss and Bruce takes the opportunity to grab him and flip him over, taking charge of the kiss instead.

And as they lay there, laughing and kissing and definitely not beating their jet lag, Bruce thinks that maybe, maybe he doesn’t have to worry about this.

 ** _FIN_**

**Post-Credits Scene**

“Bruce, I gotta tell you something.”

“If it’s that you have herpes, I have to tell you that your timing is terrible.”

“Jesus, no. It’s important, okay?”

“Alright, I’m listening.”

“I love you and all, but...”

“But?”

“...If you tell anyone about the dorky things I say and do when we’re alone, this marriage will have to end in murder-suicide.”

“That’s what you’re worried about on our honeymoon?”

“Yeah. Natasha would never let me live it down, or Thor, or anyone else we’re related to. And if we die we can't give Far another grandkid.”

“What?”

“Yeah, a condition of him paying for this trip is that we ‘get on that.’”

“...Didn’t Thor and Jane just say they’re thinking of adopting their fifth kid next year?”

“Yep. But Far’s policy is apparently ‘Go forth and multiply, for I much desire more anklebiters to play with and spoil.’”

“Well, maybe in a couple years. For now, you can tell him that we tried to get pregnant and it didn’t take, so we’re going to see a fertility doctor.”

“I don’t think even he’ll fall for that one.”

“Ask him while he’s working. It’ll only half-register, but it’ll be enough to put him off our case for a while.”

“You really are a genius, aren’t you?”

“I am, but that’s just a trick I learned from spending way too much time with your father. You missed some priceless stuff during all those archery practices.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really love doing these things. They're examples of my most basely-motivated writing: To create and disappear inside a little world where I can make things happy if I want them to be, or sad, and everything is good and nothing hurts.


End file.
